


sometimes love is a group effort

by leighbot



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:37:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4644309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/pseuds/leighbot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He knew Louis was going to be a problem.</i>
</p><p>Or, the mostly canon-compliant fic showing how their families and the other lads helped bring Louis and Liam together over the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sometimes love is a group effort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Narryornarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narryornarry/gifts).



> Narryornarry, I hope you like it! It isn't what you asked for, but I stalked your bookmarks a bit before writing this so I hope it fits with the other stories you've liked! Thanks for your prompts, I tried to mix and match them up a little bit.
> 
> Thanks to T, my pre-reader, for the britpick and beta. All mistakes are my own- I cannot resist editing and adding even after the final draft has been returned.

**Parents…**

_… and Liam_

It isn’t that Liam thinks he’s too good for a group. Groups are ace, always have been, and he ends up rooting for them more than the solo acts most years.

He has just never really thought he’d be put into a group. He’s spent the last two years singing as much as possible, having his dad drive him to gig after gig and audition after audition. He came back with a bit of a point to prove, and he’d _smashed_ ‘Cry Me a River.’ He wasn’t dumb, he heard the online chatter about him from the audience who had seen him audition and thought he was going to win it all. He knew the odds were in his favour, though that was never a guarantee.

They’ve all filed off the stage after listening to and thanking Simon Cowell. Liam knows his parents are around somewhere, but he doesn’t know how long he has until he sees them. He needs to get his feelings in order by then, doesn’t want his mum to see him upset.

And, in all honesty, he _knows_ that he shouldn’t even be upset. He’s just been given a second chance. Getting cut had felt like the worst kind of hell- he had been so, so close this time and no one could use his age as a reason to keep him back, there’d be no excuse for him not making it. Even missing the qualifying time when he’d been running hadn’t left him with the acid taste of disappointment in the back of his throat. Nothing has ever felt worse. When he thinks about it that way- comparing how he had felt then to how he feels now- disappointment is an unfair word to use. The lads he’s paired with are all amazing singers, and he knows that Niall’s ace from them rooming together. Louis might be a problem; he’s older than Liam is and seems like he’d be quite bossy.

Just, for once in Liam’s life, he wants to feel like he’s enough.

He wasn’t enough for the Olympic team.

He wasn’t enough two years ago for The X Factor.

He isn’t enough _now_ for The X Factor, it seems. He’s only fifteen percent enough. Or. Wait. Liam’s never been great at maths. There’s five of them in the group, he’s one of five, put the one over the five and that equals… well, that doesn’t make sense, can’t split one five ways.

Liam’s got no idea, and it doesn’t matter anyway. He might not have been enough on his own for The X Factor, but he’s part of a group now and he’s just as important as the other lads. He wipes his eyes, tries to play it off like he’s happy, but he sees the way Louis watches him out of the corner of his eyes.

He knew Louis was going to be a problem.

His mum and dad are coming around the corner now, so he ignores Louis and lets his mum get him in a tight hug, turning to his dad when she’s done for another one before his mum grabs him again.

“Oh, I’m so _proud_ , so completely proud, love,” she keeps saying, kissing his cheeks.

It just makes him feel worse. He knows he’s having a proper strop like a toddler, but he doesn’t _get it_. “S’not like it counts, though,” he finds himself saying when his mum lets him up for a chance to breath. She’s wiping at her eyes under her glasses, a wide beam on her face, and he doesn’t want to take her happiness away but he doesn’t want her to think it’s a bigger deal than it is.

“What do you mean, son?” his dad asks, voice gruff in a way that reveals he’s tearing up a bit, too.

“Groups don’t make it; groups don’t win.”

“You will,” his mum says. “You lads will win.”

Normally, her confidence alone would convince Liam that he’s wrong. But he knows what he knows, and what he knows is that the lads and the girls were put into groups just to give viewers something to be surprised about, after thinking that everyone who wasn’t called was out. It’ll be good telly, he reckons, but it feels like utter shit being in the midst of it.

“I don’t know,” he finally says, not willing to meet their eyes. “I don’t know if I can do it, what if they don’t take it seriously? I don’t want to be made a fool of, not with something this important.”

“They all look like nice boys,” his mum says, leaning in and kissing Liam on the cheek again, right in the center like always. “Oh, I’m just so proud of you,” she gushes.

“Besides,” his dad starts to say. Liam turns his shoulders a bit to look him in the eye, brows raised. “They’re kind of fit, right?”

Liam goes red, completely mortified. Ever since he came out to his parents the summer before, crying and telling them he might not be completely into girls anymore, his dad has made it his mission to point out every good-looking guy they pass, in an effort to reassure Liam that he’s completely okay with it. Liam doesn’t typically mind, always just rolls his eyes and ignores it, but the lads are _right there_ and he doesn’t want them to overhear. Everything has changed now; his being gay isn’t going to just affect _his_ chances, he’s going to affect the whole group. He’ll need to find a time to tell them; give them a chance to decide if they want him out of the group or not.

“Dad, no,” he says, resisting the urge to turn his dad back to face him when he looks over at the others, scoping them out. He chances a glance and catches Louis’ eye before he focuses back on his dad. “We’re in a group, it’s a job now. I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up.”

“Yeah, smart lad,” his dad says. Liam laughs, distracted enough from his previous bad mood. He’s not feeling sorry for himself anymore, and he feels actually excited to try it out.

After all, being a group isn’t a death sentence. Robbie Williams and Morrissey both have done alright after groups.

He turns back to his mum again, kissing her big and loud on the cheek before they’re called away by a producer, wanting to get a shot of everyone’s happiness at making it through.

“Love you,” he says to them both.

“Love you more, always,” his mum replies, tearing up again as he walks away and falls in with the other four boys. He smiles at her, tries for reassuring though he knows as soon as he’s gone she’ll have a proper cry about it with his dad, and then he turns his back completely, settling into the arm Niall tosses around his shoulder.

 

_… and Louis_

“Mum, you have _honestly_ got to get it together,” Louis whines, trying to wipe the lipstick from his face _again_. His mum just laughs at him, licking her thumb and brushing it away. He ducks when he feels the wet digit on his skin, groaning and hiding his hands in his face.

Mums are the _worst_.

“I’m just so happy for you, Boo,” she says. Mark laughs at the murderous look Louis shoots at her. “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she says. “You will always, always be my boo bear, I don’t care how famous you get.”

“You are so embarrassing, go away or something.” He’s smiling as he says it, though, so he isn’t sure how much she’s going to listen.

Not at all, apparently.

Over the sound of his mum congratulating him again, he hears the chatter of the others with their mums, both the lads in his group and the girls from the other group that’s just been formed. They’re closest to Liam and his parents, and Louis can hear them reassuring him about being in a group. His heart sinks, and his mouth forms a frown. He’d had a feeling about Liam, knew he was too serious. Louis’ just honestly thrilled that he’s made it this far, doesn’t ever want to _not_ hear his name called again, and thinking that one of the boys might be unhappy with a group instead of grateful for another chance is depressing.

He tries to tune them out, but then he hears Liam’s dad say something about the lads in the group being fit. Startled, he looks over again. Liam sees him looking and he tries to smile or appear reassuring somehow but then he just looks away at his dad again, hissing something under his breath.

Louis’ fine if Liam’s gay, doesn’t really think he’s completely straight himself, but he doesn’t like the way Liam seems to be dealing with the group concept.

His mum gets his attention again and he smiles for her benefit. “What?” he asks.

“Do you know any of the other boys yet? You seemed chummy with the curly-haired one.”

“Harry’s amazing, yeah. I’ve met Niall, he’s the Irish one and the others seem… okay.”

She laughs. “You don’t like them.”

“I do!” he insists. “I just don’t know them yet.”

“You’ll get on with them. You’ve got lots of friends, yeah?”

Louis just nods, trying to ignore the fact that most of his ‘friends’ poked fun at him for wanting to audition anyway. It wouldn’t do any good to tell his mum that, though; she’s fiercely protective of him as the only boy. Instead he kisses her on the cheek, ducking when she tries to land another one on his, and makes to rush away when the producer calls them in. He barely spares a glance for Mark, knows full well that they’re fighting from the way they’re standing miles apart from each other.

Whatever. He’s got to focus on The X Factor. His mum can handle Mark on her own, she’s the toughest person he’s ever met. A fact which is proven when she grabs him at the last minute, one more smacking kiss pressed to his cheekbone before she lets him go.

He grumbles and wipes at his face with the back of his hand, grinning when Harry slides up to him and presses against Louis’ side. Harry’s like an oversized housecat, Louis’ already come to realize, and he wraps an arm around Harry’s waist.

“Alright, Haz?” he asks in a low tone as the producer tells them what she wants to get in the shots they’re lining up.

“I’m so excited,” Harry replies.

“Me too. I wanted to audition with a group but nobody got back to me.”

Liam shifts on Louis’ other side but he pays him no mind.

“Is it because you sent word out last minute about it and didn’t leave anyone time to respond?” Harry teases, voice too loud to really classify as a whisper.

“No, you prat,” Louis hisses back, unconcerned with his own volume.

It earns him a glare from both the producer and Liam, and Louis falls silent, pouting.

Liam’s going to make this whole experience _awful_.

 

 

**Zayn …**

_… and Louis_

It wouldn’t bother him so much if Liam was anti-social with everyone, but it’s really only Louis that he seems to have a problem with. He’ll hole away for hours with Zayn, discussing comic books together in whispers so quiet that Louis couldn’t listen in if he _tried_. He’s bonded with Niall since they roomed together, and Louis will often stumble upon them backstage somewhere with an acoustic guitar in Liam’s lap as Niall tries to teach him chord changes. Harry is able to steal Liam away for movies or dinners together, and he’s surprisingly tight-lipped when they come back about what they talk about.

It isn’t that Louis is _jealous_ , it’s just that he wants everyone to like him and Liam doesn’t and that makes Louis feel a little… well, a little jealous maybe.

So he takes to acting out. All of the things he normally does to make his friends laugh, he does tenfold around Liam. He’s constantly checking Liam’s reaction, waiting for a sign of approval, but he’s often met with a confused glance that does nothing to soothe the growing _need_ in his mind for Liam’s attention.

“Might want to calm down before you hurt yourself,” Zayn calls out as he’s climbing on top of the steel beams hanging from the sloped ceiling.

“Don’t tell him that,” Niall laughs, “Tommo’ll just do something dumber.”

“Is ‘dumber’ a word?” Liam asks, head tilted back as he looks up at Louis.

“I don’t know, _Leeyum_ , why don’t you go look at your calendar,” Louis huffs out, tongue between his teeth as he hefts himself up so his belly is flat along the steel.

If he’s being honest with himself, he knows exactly why Liam doesn’t much like him. Louis really needs to stop picking on him so much.

“My calendars don’t have words like that,” Liam says, proud. “They’ve got happy words like ‘alacrity’. As in: if we Louis doesn’t break his neck today, we’ll be ready to perform on stage with alacrity.”

‘Alacrity’ had been Liam’s word for his birthday, and he hadn’t yet let them forget that.

“Liam, please stop finding ways to fit that word into a sentence,” Harry drawls from his spot on the arm of the sofa, not looking up from his phone.

Probably too busy texting one of his pretentious new hipster mates, Louis reasons.

“Someone should spot Tommo in case he falls,” Zayn says, though he doesn’t seem prone to get up from the sofa they had all been squeezed onto until Louis caught sight of the beams.

Instead of Liam, he’ll just start picking on Zayn more, Louis decides. He cautiously sits up, ignoring when Liam is, _of course_ , the one who gets up to stand under the beam, looking at him warily.

“Not sure if I can catch you,” he says, “but you’re kind of small so I don’t think you’ll kill me if you fall.”

“Oh my god, Liam,” Louis bites out, grimacing as the beam presses against his bits. “I’m not small.” He carefully pulls his leg over the middle, settling with his bum balanced on the edge and his hands on either side to brace himself.

“Well, your arse certainly isn’t,” Harry says with a smirk as he glances up, his cheeks dimpling.

Louis flushes a bit, not yet used to the way Harry’s suddenly developed bedroom eyes and a naughty smirk. “Don’t be jealous ‘cause you don’t have a bum at all,” he says instead, trying to keep his blush hidden by looking down.

It doesn’t help much, as he realizes he’s a bit higher than he had previously thought. Liam standing there, looking up at him with his typical worried expression makes Louis feel fond, however, and he smiles softly. “D’you want to come up?” he asks.

Liam’s shaking his head ‘no’ before Louis’ even done asking, and he flushes a bit more at the strange sense of rejection he feels.

“Alright,” he says. He stays up on the beam alone until the sting of Liam’s ‘no’ has faded.

It takes a bit longer than he was prepared for.

 

When he finally climbs down, Liam with his arms up to catch him if necessary, he heads straight for Zayn. He swipes his phone and pockets it, walking away without looking back. Zayn will follow, he knows, and he’s only alone in the next room over for a minute before the other lad comes in as well, settling on the floor next to him where he’s half-hidden by the clothes racks.

“Vas happenin?” he says around a grin, taking his mobile when Louis hands it back. He doesn’t check it though it’s buzzing in his hands, and Louis decides he maybe won’t make Zayn his new target after all.

“Just stuff,” he shrugs, curling into Zayn’s bony shoulder and trying to get comfortable. He doesn’t know how to put into words what he’s feeling, so he just sits quietly for a bit. Zayn’s the only one who gets him calm enough to do so.

After a few moments, the weird feeling fades and he perks up. “Want to go terrorize Paul?” he asks hopefully.

The nod and smile he gets seals the deal: Zayn and Liam are both going to be on Louis’ ‘Play Nicely’ list. Harry and Niall will just have to take the burden on for the team.

 

_… and Liam_

From the beginning, Zayn’s been the easiest to get along with. Even Niall had taken some getting used to when they’d first been made roommates. He was loud even when he was trying to be quiet, louder still when he was trying to be completely silent, and Liam’s an only boy so he’s never needed to share a room before. It took a bit of an adjustment.

Zayn is completely different. He listens to all of Liam’s ideas, even if they’re small and somewhat poorly thought out. He lets Liam sit with him when he’s sketching- the only one of them so far that’s allowed to intrude on the lad’s ‘creative process’. It makes Liam feel warm inside, like he’s actually being accepted for himself and not just for his contribution to the band, the way Louis makes him feel.

They’re in a cramped room backstage before their show in Cardiff, the last one on their tour and Liam’s too keyed up to sit still while Zayn draws with oil pastels. His leg’s been shaking for the last ten minutes at least, and Zayn keeps sighing.

Finally, apparently unable to deal with it, Zayn grabs a second piece of paper and shoves it in Liam’s hands. “Draw something,” he orders, shoving the supplies so they’re in between the two of them on the couch.

“I’m not very good at art,” Liam admits, biting at his bottom lip.

“Everybody is good at art,” Zayn says without looking up from what he’s doing, using his thumb to spread the colours around a bit. “Even if you make a mess, no one will know if you don’t tell them.”

“What if I draw a five-legged cow?”

At that, Zayn smirks, finally meeting Liam’s eye. “Were you going to draw a cow, _Leeyum_?” he teases, gentle in the way only Zayn and his sisters ever are.

“Well, not with pink, I suppose,” he says, cheeks getting warm as he realizes the colour he’s holding.

Zayn hums, focus back on his drawing. “You could make a pink cow. Strawberry milk, yeah?”

Liam laughs and puts the tip of the stick to the paper, the wax oil spreading easier than a crayon would. He makes a couple of thick lines, in a general shape of an animal that could possibly, maybe be able to pass for a cow one day. He contemplates adding a fifth leg to challenge Zayn’s ‘anything is art’ attitude, but he busies himself with making brown circles on the cow’s body in an approximation of spots. He uses his forefinger to thin the wax out like Zayn had done, frowning when he realizes the colour has got under his nails.

Lou Teasdale’s gonna _kill_ him, but he’s finally feeling calm so he doesn’t mind too much. When he’s finished, he holds it up for Zayn to see.

“Sick,” Zayn says with energy, smiling and taking it from him. He presses it flat on the couch cushion. “Sign it for me, mate. Gonna keep it, sell it online when we tank but you become a hot solo act.”

Liam rolls his eyes and feels his flush returning. Zayn’s belief in Liam is second only to his belief in the band, and Liam knows he’s teasing. Everyone’s confident in the album so far, almost excited to wrap up the tour so they can get to recording.

When Simon Cowell says the band is going to be popular, it’s hard to doubt that.

“Only if I get to keep yours, but you have to sign it, too,” he bargains.

Zayn rolls his eyes but does as instructed, using a bright green to scribble his increasingly familiar signature in the bottom corner. Liam handles it carefully, doesn’t want to wrinkle it or mess the edges. He stares at it, wanting to trace his fingers along the edge of the colour burst but knowing how easily it will smear.

“You’re good at this,” he says. “You’re good at a lot of things.”

Zayn tucks Liam’s picture into his sketchbook, setting it on the floor and crowding into the now-empty space between them, getting close enough to Liam that he can feel the extra body heat. “You’re good at a lot of things, too. You just don’t ever believe us when we try to tell you.”

Liam just nods, knows objectively that he’s a good singer, at least. But he’s had to work so hard at that, countless lessons between his first attempt on the X Factor and his second. Zayn’s never had vocal training until Savan started coaching them for the live shows, and Liam doesn’t think he’s had any proper art lessons, either.

“Stop comparing us,” Zayn says in an undertone as the door opens, Louis and Niall wandering in. “Hey,” Zayn acknowledges them, tipping his chin.

“Mate,” Niall says with a grin. “Tommo and I are trying to convince Harry to wear Lou’s skinnies on stage tonight. Want to try to help us? He says his bits’ll be squished but I told him Mick Jagger manages just fine.”

“Do we know what Mick’s bits look like?” Zayn smirks, pulling away from Liam slowly and tugging him up with him. “Maybe they’re quite small and it don’t matter anyway.”

“They’ve got to be normal, at least?” Niall says, stopping short as he seemingly thinks about it. “’Else there’d be rumors, yeah?”

“Well, thanks to Hazza’s hatred of decency laws, we know his would probably be uncomfortable,” Liam says, feeling confident enough to join in the banter.

“And would your bits be comfortable?” Louis asks with a sharp flash of his teeth, something that might be a smile but looks more like a snarl.

Liam never knows if Louis is trying to be nice or mean, and he looks over at Zayn, who smiles and says, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Louis laughs, bounding over to Zayn and play wrestling with him for a bit. He smiles again at Liam, a bit softer and more genuine this time, and Liam lets Niall pull him away. “Harry wants us to tell him he looks like a rock star or something, come on.”

Liam wants to turn around at the last moment, wants to thank Zayn for helping to calm him, but Niall tugs his arm again and he just goes with him, making their way down the corridor to the dressing room set up for them.

 

 

**Niall…**

_… and Liam_

Liam _loves_ parties.

Niall always throws the best ones- his favourites are when they celebrate really important things, like the third Tuesday in the month- but he likes going to the club with Niall for any reason. Josh’s birthday is a better reason than most, and Funky Buddha is packed for the night, their ‘Thank Funk it’s Friday’ standard house music making the building shake.

He’s drunk, more so than he has ever been before, and he’s hanging off of Niall, the two of them squished together in a chair and laughing over something Josh is saying. Liam can’t really hear him very well, but everyone’s laughing and he’s having a good time and he never wants to be anywhere that isn’t Funky Buddha ever again.

“Can we do my birthday here?” he asks Niall, shouting to be heard though they’re pressed so close there isn’t room to breathe, Liam practically in Niall’s lap.

“You want?” Niall asks, tipping his chin to look up at Liam, braces bright in the flashing lights.

“Yeah, I want.”

“Could do,” Niall agrees, taking a sip of his drink and turning back to the others, Bressie’s voice now filling in the non-existent gaps in sound. Liam turns his head and noses at the line of Niall’s neck, having missed him since the end of tour.

He missed touring in general, missed being constantly surrounded by his lads and having something specific to do most days. He likes order and routine, and tour has somehow surprisingly become the most routine part of his life.

 “Someone’s cuddly tonight,” Niall notes, his hand slipping under Liam’s shirt to stroke at the skin of his hip. Liam laughs, shaking his head for no specific reason and shifting closer.

“Not cuddly,” he objects with a grin, though he’s half in Niall’s lap at this point. “Just missed you on break. Missed all you lads.”

“Even Louis?” Niall teases, nodding his head to where the other lad is in a group near them, talking with Gemma.

“Of course,” Liam says, affronted. “Niall, of course I missed Louis.”

“I know, mate, I’m just teasing you,” he assures, laughing. “Was a time you wouldn’t have missed Louis as much. Would have been happy for the time off.”

“He just doesn’t ever mind me,” Liam pouts, knows he’s pouting but can’t stop.

“Louis doesn’t mind anyone.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t like me for a long time, either.”

“Yer both barking mad if you think either of you ever actually disliked each other. Looked a bit like pulling pigtails on the playground. You lot just like playing games.”

Liam pops his lips, emphasizing the ‘p’ as he repeats _‘pulling pigtails playground’_ under his breath. He isn’t aware he’s humming until Niall laughs again, the phrase ‘playing games’ echoing in his mind as he tries to find lyrics he knows are buried there.

His eyes find Louis again, the lad looking around and meeting Liam’s gaze. He smiles wide, a pointy and sharp sincerity to it that Liam could never again mistake for disinterest or dislike. They’ve all come a long way, but he and Louis have probably come the furthest.

Niall’s shifting out of the seat and Liam falls back into it, settling into the extra space and turning to Laura next to him now. The entirety of the LIC is here tonight, he thinks, their accents getting exponentially stronger the more of them there are around.

“Alright, Liam?” she asks with a smile.

“Alright,” he agrees. “Have you had a chance to go home recently?”

They fall into conversation easily until Niall returns with pints for them all, settling his bony arse firmly on Liam’s knees. He doesn’t mind, even pulls Niall closer so he’s in his lap proper after a moment. He listens as Niall and Laura flirt shamelessly, their relationship so comfortable they don’t care what other people think. It isn’t easy being a female in One Direction’s friend-sphere, but Laura’s never let it bother her.

He feels guilty for a moment when he thinks about the backlash Eleanor and Danielle always face, a hint of relief underneath it all that he can be seen with the lads he’s pulled and not have it splashed over the papers the next day. The relief just makes the guilt stronger and he shifts a bit under Niall’s weight, suddenly second-guessing himself.

Niall must sense his anxiety rising because he quickly gets Liam on his feet and out onto the dance floor. The crush of bodies around them might not be Niall’s favourite thing, but he’s holding up well and laughing, so Liam lets himself move with the crowd and forgets to think for a bit.

 

He stumbles into a waiting taxi with Niall that night, pressing drunk kisses to his temple. “Thanks for an awesome party, can’t wait to see mine.”

“I’m not planning yours,” Niall teases. “You get Louis to do it.”

Liam smiles, wider than he should just at the mention of Louis’ name. “You’re a liar; you love planning parties and you love me.”

“That’s rude and untrue, Payno.”

There was a time when Liam would have fallen for the words as they are spoken, but he knows better now and he can hear the mirth in Niall’s tone. ‘Mirth’ was on his calendar for Christmas the past year and it always makes him feel warm inside when he remembers it. He means to tell Niall but he gets off-track again when Niall mentions the birthday party.

“We _can’t_ let Louis plan it,” Liam insists, trying to be serious. “He’ll cause such a fuss, we’ll never be allowed back here again.”

Niall pulls him somehow closer, the two of them hardly taking up one side of the bench seat in the back of the cab. “We’ll just keep it a surprise then, let you guess who pulled it off once it’s done.”

Liam sighs, knows he’s fighting a losing battle. “Just no dancing girls, promise.”

Niall hums in agreement. He’s silent for a moment as the cab takes them down the dark city streets. “What about dancing lads?” he says around a yawn.

Liam catches the yawn quickly. “No, none of that either,” he says after a moment.

 

He thanks Louis profusely the next day over the phone, fighting through a hangover and a sore-like pain in his thighs from his busy night with the bartender at the party, and Louis laughs at him. He’s happy that he recognizes the laugh as warm and fond, grinning like an idiot into the phone until they hang up.

 

_… and Louis_

There is nothing missing in Louis’ life. Honestly. He’s in an amazing band with his absolute best mates, his family is finally doing great after his mum’s divorce and he’s dating a really, really great girl. Eleanor is amazing, doesn’t expect or seem to want any commitment, deals with the backlash as well as can be hoped and is really, extraordinarily fun to be around.

But there’s something that bothers him sometimes, a feeling when he’s around Liam that he can’t really shake. He doesn’t know who to talk to about it, so he does the one thing he can think of: he shows up at Bobby Horan’s door with a knapsack stuffed with enough clothes to last a weekend.

“Thanks for letting me crash your family time,” he says again as Niall makes up a bed for him. “You can just leave me here when you guys play golf and stuff, I’m not bothered. Just can’t be in London, you know?”

“No problem,” Niall says, a genuine smile on his face. He’ll listen when Louis’ ready to talk but he won’t bring it up like Harry would and he won’t tiptoe around him either the way that Zayn’s been known to do. Niall is unflappable with the band but he isn’t a push over: he’ll call Louis out on his shit once they get to talking, and Louis knows that he’ll deserve it but he isn’t exactly looking forward to it.

So he wastes away an entire weekend, ignoring texts from everyone but his mum who just asks him every day if he’s doing okay.

He isn’t doing okay.

He’s somehow fallen in love with his best friend instead of his girlfriend and he hates everyone but he mostly just hates himself.

On the last day of his visit, he doesn’t want to be left behind anymore so he goes to the gold course with Niall, steadfastly refusing to put on proper shoes or clothes. Niall and Bobby don’t seem to care, they just smile and roll their eyes, but some of the other people out for the day give him strange looks.

In a previous life, he’d just glare at them or bare his teeth, but he ignores that urge now and even tries his hand at golf a bit. He’s worse than he’s ever thought he could be but he doesn’t mind when Niall makes everything- even sucking- so much fun.

“Reckon I’m ready to talk,” he says when they’re done, having lost Bobby somewhere around hole 13 to a group of his friends.

“Pints or FIFA?” Niall asks, shouldering his clubs.

“Just talk.”

Niall nods, clearly hiding a bit of surprise if the slight way his eyebrows quirk is anything to go by.

 

It still takes hours for them to get settled enough to talk, Aoife not taking no for an answer when they try to beg off of dinner.

“You’d think we’re still children and not world-famous popstars,” Niall says loudly once they’ve cleared their plates, grinning when Aoife just laughs.

“Don’t act like yer ego’s as big as all that,” she calls back with a clear smile.

“C’mon let’s go up on the roof,” he says in a lower voice to Louis, leading him up a flight of steps and into the smallest of the bedrooms. “Used to do this sometimes with my guitar.”

“Neighbours didn’t mind?”

“Nah, wouldn’t play too loud or too often. Just when I needed to think. Reckon you could use some room to think.”

Louis just nods, climbing out the window after him and settling next to him.

“Eleanor and I broke up,” Louis says after a moment of looking up at the sky, trying to pick out stars he recognizes. He knows that, if he were to ask, Niall would be able to name all of the most famous ones, but he likes to try to find them on his own.

Niall’s quiet, head tipped back as well. Louis would be offended that his confession didn’t warrant any response if it was someone other than Niall, but he knows all too well how the blond lad operates. He’d be willing to wait all night for Louis to utter one more word if that’s what Louis wanted.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?” he says after a moment.

“Why?” Niall asks promptly, clearly taking the hint.

“Because I’m in love with Liam.”

“Okay.”

Louis jerks his head to the side, eyes trained on Niall’s face. “Okay?” he asks, bewildered.

“Yeah,” Niall says with a shrug, still looking at the stars. “That’s okay.” When Louis doesn’t respond, he looks down at him again. “Is this new for you?”

“New for- what?” Louis sputters.

“You’ve loved Liam for a long time. Thought you were just not acting on it because of the band thing.”

“The band thing,” Louis repeats. “How long have I been in love with Liam?”

Niall shrugs, looking up again. “Probably since we got kicked of The X Factor, I guess. Since you saw how crushed he was that we didn’t make it and you stopped thinking he was disappointed in being in a group.”

And that’s just completely untrue. Louis is going to tell Niall it isn’t true. He’s going to just open his mouth and say-

“Yeah, maybe,” is what comes out instead, completely surprising him.

“If it makes you feel any better, Liam doesn’t know.”

“It does a bit,” Louis admits. He fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt. “You’re not gonna tell him, are you?”

Niall shakes his head, glancing at Louis with a grin. “Course I wouldn’t. You probably should at some point though.”

“That’s never going to happen.”

“Louis-“

“ _No_. The band is too important to all of us and I wouldn’t want to risk it. Plus, I’m just not ready to be in love with anyone, let alone Liam. He’s such a square.”

“Yeah, but he’s our square.”

Louis sighs, lying down on his back. “Our square,” he repeats, finally spotting the North Star and smiling at the sheer humour in finding true north at the same moment he openly admits that Liam’s his.

 

 

**Harry…**

_… and Louis_

No matter what he’s attempted, Louis has never been particularly _great_ at anything. He’s been decent at a couple things- singing or performing on stage. There have been certain times he’s been just ‘good’ at something, like being Danny Zukko in school. And he’s failed at so much: at being a good older brother when he forgets to call his sisters back, at being a boyfriend when he broke up with Eleanor because of his stupid crush, at bloody Geography like when his teacher told him he’d never amount to anything. Though he knows that he is the one who put that last tidbit on info out for the fans, it’s never fun to hear it spread around as if he’s honestly achieved something yet.

He’s a decent singer in an amazing band and a certain dark part of fandom never lets him forget it.

When he starts writing, though, it’s like everything changes for him.

He writes a bit on his own but mostly with Liam, and the lads like what they do, the writing team likes what they do, management approves of the songs and then the fans. The fans react so, so amazingly well and even better when they realize who the credit writers are on the tracks. They start showing Louis more support, holding his writing to the same level they appreciate Zayn’s high notes, Niall’s guitar playing, Harry’s curly hair or Liam’s overall showmanship. He feels a bit bad if the fans recognize him specifically for a song he’s co-written, but Liam always rolls his eyes and shushes him, lets Louis take the spotlight.

It feels like flying into the sun, being good at something and being recognized for it.

Whenever he gets an idea for a lyric, he jots it down on any available surface. Liam, the ever sensible one, carries around a small notepad, but Louis finds that his best inspiration is usually found when he’s got nothing around him save for some of Lou’s leftover eyeliner and the pale expanse of Harry’s overly-long arms.

“Think you’ll ever grow into these proper?” Louis teases.

“Be nice to the canvas,” Harry warns. “I might just have to sneeze and snatch it back.”

“I’ll snatch you back,” Louis mutters without feeling, tongue between his teeth as he finishes scribbling down his thoughts.

Harry looks at it when he’s done. Louis wants to lay his belly over it, block the words, but that’s futile of course. He can’t exactly keep the lad from look at his own arm for the rest of the day.

“Hmm, does Liam know you’re in love with him?” Harry asks after a moment.

Louis chokes on his own tongue. Of all the introspective, fake-deep bullshit he expected to come out of Harry’s mouth, those words were never, ever on the list.

“ _How do you know_?” he hisses, eyes wide and lips snarling.

Harry looks at him and laughs. “Really, mate? I think the only person in the whole world who _doesn’t_ know is Liam himself.”

“I’m going to kill Irish.”

“Niall didn’t say anything,” Harry says patiently, taking care to avoid smearing the lyrics as he rolls down his sleeve. “We’re not blind.”

“I don’t even know if I like boys the way I like girls,” Louis admits, deciding that blatant honesty is the way to go now that his secret’s out. “I mean. I’d get off with Liam in a second but. He’s a relationship lad and I’m not sure how much I am. I couldn’t keep the feelings part up with Liam.”

“Well, do you want a relationship with Liam?”

Louis glares at him. Harry just beams, dimples as deep as they were when he was sixteen and too sweet and curly for his own good.

“You don’t have to want to date boys, but you want to date Liam. Should probably let him know.”

“What if it ruins everything?” Louis asks.

“I think you bottling the feelings up is going to ruin everything before being honest would.”

He hates when Harry’s right.

 

_… and Liam_

Harry is the best one of them. He always has been. He’s got the ‘popstar’ life down to a science. Liam loves visiting him in LA at his new place, loves living the Hollywood life.

Louis, however, hates it. He’s always sullen when they’re in California, and he pouts when Liam and Harry return from their jogs together.

“You’re always more than welcome to join us,” Harry reminds him with a grin before he takes a deep drink from his water bottle.

Liam watches Louis’ eyes drag down to Harry’s throat, can almost feel the blush on his own cheeks as Louis’ face flushes. “Hate jogging,” he finally grits out.

“Pretend you’re kicking around a ball,” Harry advises.

“Just because you’re some globe-traveling popstar, you think you have the answer to everything.”

“I sure do.”

Liam’s neck is quickly tired watching their back-and-forth. They’ve all five of them had a winning camaraderie since the beginning, but Louis and Harry can banter like no one else. Since Louis and Eleanor had split, Harry’s been the best at getting Louis to liven up a bit. He’s taken the breakup harder than they had thought, and Liam’s complicated feelings about Louis- he thinks he would _hate_ him half the time if he wasn’t one of the best parts of Liam’s life- keep him from being helpful.

“Going to hit the shower,” he says, the two of them barely acknowledging him as they continue making snarky comments.

When he’s finished and is toweling off, the door to the spare room opens and Harry slips it.

“Hey,” Liam greets him. He pulls his pants up slowly, snapping the elastic around his hips.

“Louis’ gone to get a hotel,” Harry says, smiling sheepishly when Liam turns to look at him. “Says this place is too posh. More fun for us.”

Liam laughs, rolling his eyes. Louis always gets a hotel room after just a day or two. He shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. “What kind of fun did you have in mind?” he asks, slightly wary. Harry’s always got the strangest ideas.

He doesn’t disappoint.

 

Wandering around downtown LA with fake wigs and moustaches is soon Liam’s very favourite thing. He and Harry are currently at a divebar somewhere a bit too close to Lincoln Heights for their security team to be comfortable. They’ve managed to leave Paddy behind at the house, and Liam feels a little bit bad about lying to him about their plans. He just loves the smile on Harry’s face- currently partially hidden by a truly awful, creeper moustache but delighted just the same- when they do something particularly inspired.

As they drink their pints, they start to notice a bit of a commotion near the entrance. Always on alert for fans or paps, Liam feels Harry tense beside him as he does the same. He glances over to the door, relaxing slightly when he sees that no one is paying them any mind. Harry looks over as well, audibly gasping when he sees Louis and Alberto come in.

Louis appears flustered, clearly upset with the crowd of people that have forced him to seek shelter inside the bar. He brushes off the hand Alberto lays on his shoulder, soldiering up to the bar and ordering a pint with an exasperated smile at the bartender. Alberto’s got his phone to his ear, clearly calling for backup, and Harry ducks his head and turns towards Liam.

Liam knows Harry doesn’t want to be caught- once Alberto sees them, they’re going to be forced back to the hotel and possibly be in trouble- so he looks forward quickly, trying to keep an eye on them out of his peripheral. He thinks he sees Louis looking at them and he can’t stop himself from checking quickly.

Sure enough, Louis’ frowning over the fresh pint in front of him, staring at Liam and Harry. His eyes get bright when Liam glances at him, recognition clear on his face. He opens his mouth and Liam starts shaking his head frantically. Though he closes his mouth, he doesn’t stop looking at them.

It takes a long moment, but he finally looks down, and Liam feels his phone buzz a second later.

_why wasn’t I invited?_

Biting down on a smile, Liam quickly types back _Youu went to a hotel… How’s that workign for you?_

He thinks he hears Louis snort across the bar, but he doesn’t dare look up. Harry’s eyes are on his mobile, and he looks up at Liam briefly, a grin on his own lips. “Tommo’s jealous,” he whispers. “He’s always trying to get you to sneak off with him but you never do.”

Liam doesn’t respond, distracted when his phone goes again.

_not the time for your snark, Payno. one word to alberto and you two are busted._

“He wouldn’t,” Harry says, lifting his cheek to glare at Louis. He sees Alberto come up to him and presses his face into Liam’s neck, his wig tickling under Liam’s jaw.

_What will it take to bye your silence?_

The three little dots that indicate Louis is typing appear on the screen.

“I’ve got too much dirt on him,” Harry mumbles into his shoulder. “I know who he likes.”

Liam laughs, shifting his shoulder a bit so Harry looks down at the screen again, his temple on Liam’s skin. Louis’ written _i want a foot massage when we fly next. i want harry to not make me eat kale for a full 24 hours. i want your green jumper you have on and harry’s blue checkered shirt he wore the other day._

Harry laughs again. “Greedy little shit. Tell him fine for the kale but he’ll have to tell his crush the truth for the shirt.”

Liam relays Harry’s words carefully, biting the tip of his tongue as he types. He’s curious who the mysterious crush is that Harry keeps referring to, but he knows better than to ask. All in due time. He looks down at what he’s wearing, trying to figure out why _this_ jumper is the one Louis wants so much.

When he looks up, Louis is talking to Alberto, managing to keep him facing away from them. Liam holds his breath as they finally walk out, Louis going straight to the door and not fighting Alberto for once. For some reason, that doesn’t raise Alberto’s suspicion, and they leave without causing any fuss.

The crowd outside gets louder when they see Louis, and Liam peeks out the front window, rolling his eyes when he sees Louis stop for a few autographs.

“He’s dragging it out,” Harry notes out loud.

Liam laughs but doesn’t reply, pushing his phone back into his pocket. It buzzes but he ignores it, finishing his drink with Harry and waiting for the crowd to disperse after Louis’ car pulls away.

 

They get back to Harry’s house late that night, slightly tipsy after the third bar they’d hit on their way back to the Post Office area of Beverly Hills. He doesn’t want to make his way to the detached guest house, so he crashes in Harry’s spare room, tucking himself in under the covers and finally, finally checking his phone. He wades through the messages and notifications, seeing that Niall’s tweeted something about golf again and making a mental note to tease him about it later. He gets to the message from Louis that had been bothering him for hours since that first pub.

_tell Styles to keep his mouth shut or i’ll tell Grimshaw how he really feels. and i’m expecting your jumper tomorrow, my hotel room is drafty_

A bit disappointed, not really sure what he’d been expecting Louis to say, Liam thumbs out a quick reply. _i wore it all day 2day. ill haveit in the wash and bring it too u after_

Three dots appear almost immediately, and Liam snuggles further into his pillow, waiting. What Louis says is not what Liam had expected.

_it’s okay if it smells like you still_

Liam bites his bottom lip as he re-reads the message a couple times. Before he can stop himself, he texts back _why haha its a bit dodgy_

The dots appear and disappear a few times, and Liam falls asleep still waiting for Louis’ reply fifteen minutes later.

 

When he wakes up, there’s no reply.

 

 

**Louis …**

_… and Liam_

Louis has been acting strange lately. Well, stranger than usual, Liam thinks to himself. He’s quiet and soft, wears Liam’s green jumper everywhere and is always off writing in his notebook. It’s not completely different to how they wrote for Midnight Memories, but usually Louis shares his songs before too long.

It’s been months.

Liam’s panicking, needs Louis’ words and thoughts to round out his own. There are some songs that come easily to him, songs where he can sit with the writers and not need Louis’ opinion. But those songs are few and far between. Normally, he needs to brainstorm with Louis, needs to bounce ideas off of him.

Liam’s not ashamed to admit that sometimes he doesn’t know if a song is good until Louis tells him it is.

 

Finally, after _ages_ of writing solo and only dealing with Louis for non-writing things, Louis shows up at his door with his notebook and a sheepish grin. Relief floods through Liam’s blood and he lets Louis in easily, taking his bookbag from his shoulders and pulling him into a hug.

“Alright mate?” he asks. “It’s been a while.”

“Sorry,” Louis says, but he doesn’t expand his thoughts further and Liam doesn’t push.

They settle down on Liam’s couch, legs crossed underneath them and turned to face each other. Liam notices the iron grip Louis has on his notebook so he shares his first, an assortment of loose pages stuck in-between the ones still bound. He fidgets while Louis looks them over, the corners of his mouth quirking into a smile when Louis hums out a tune that would fit a specific song well.

“I like this one,” he says, passing back a loose page with most of a song put together. Liam likes it, too, even before Louis’ approval, but he still feels warm in his chest at the other lad’s words. He thumbs over his favourite line, and Louis watches him. He starts humming again, adding the words after a moment.

His eyes are bright like the sky when he looks up, a sad smile on his lips. “That’s brilliant, Li. I think they’ll like this one a lot.”

Liam clears his throat, flushing under the phrase. “Your turn,” he says, voice still thick.

“Most of it is just a bunch of ditties,” Louis says, rustling through his pages. He pulls one out. “This is the one I’m most nervous about you seeing,” he says, looking up and meeting Liam’s eyes again. “I guess I should just get it over with.”

Liam holds out his hand, taking the page carefully. “Do you have any music in mind?”

Louis nods, humming a quick melody. It’s simple and mellow, so reminiscent of Fleetwood Mac that Liam would tease him for spending so much time around Harry if he didn’t know how important this must be to Louis. He looks down at the page, hearing the melody in his head even when Louis falls silent.

It’s not a complete song, far from it in fact, but the simple melody isn’t going to need overly complicated verses, and Liam already has a new one in mind. He hums for a moment, playing with the structure of the complete verse Louis has written down until he’s mirrored it and changed the meaning at the same time. Louis scoots over closer to him, looking down at the page where Liam’s scribbling his verse.

“You like the theme, then?” he asks softly.

“Taking a gamble on yourself? ‘Course I do.”

Louis seems pleased, tucking his face into his shoulder and trying unsuccessfully to hide his flush. “You’re my best friend, Li,” he says after a moment, looking up at Liam through his thick lashes.

Part of Liam wants to call him on his lie but he stops himself before he can. Because he knows exactly what Louis’ saying: all of the boys are so important to him, he couldn’t do any of this without them, but he has a special relationship with all of his boys. With Louis, he doesn’t fit into the quiet role like he does with Zayn or the party role like he does with Niall or the follower role he does with Harry. With Louis, it’s like he can be himself, no matter what they’re getting up to.

It’s funny, because Liam’s always been wary of Louis from the start. If asked, he would have often said that he and Louis were complete opposites. But when he stops and thinks about it in moments like right now, he realizes that Louis’ his best friend too.

He tells him as much and delights at the way Louis’ eyes narrow and the bags underneath become more pronounced when he smiles. Louis ducks in and presses a kiss to Liam’s cheek, close and low enough to catch the corner of Liam’s mouth on accident.

Liam pulls back just a bit, Louis exhaling through his nose in a long sigh. He nuzzles into Liam’s neck and Liam lifts his arm, always happy to cuddle with Louis. He pulls him closer into his side, Louis’ notebook open between them now as Liam slowly turns the pages, taking his time with each block of text he finds.

They spend the rest of the night like that, going between their books and finding verses and tiny phrases that could be linked together. They hum out melodies and record themselves on their phones, desperate not to forget.

They fall into the same bed together hours later as the sun is coming up, too exhausted to make up the guest room for Louis. Liam wakes up with a lock of hair in his mouth and a compact body slotted against his, and he presses a kiss to Louis’ forehead before rolling out of bed and heading to the kitchen to start some tea and pour out cereal for them, ignoring the clock on the stove reproachfully informing him it’s well into the afternoon and too late for Coco Pops.

Louis stumbles in a few minutes later, the missing warmth in bed clearly enough to rouse him. He’s shirtless and scratches low on his belly while he pulls down two mugs with his other hand, waiting for the water for tea.

“We’re going to meet up with Julian soon, think Jamie and John are there, too,” Liam says after a moment of quiet.

Louis nods to show he’s heard, but Liam can see the tension in his shoulders. He abandons the cereal bowls and crosses over to Louis, hugging him from behind.

“I’m okay,” Louis says, but he doesn’t relax and Liam doesn’t let go.

“What’s all this about? You’ve never been nervous about sharing your songs with us.”

Louis turns around, Liam’s arms falling to his sides again though he doesn’t back up.

“These are a bit different,” Louis says, looking down at his feet.

“Why?”

He doesn’t appreciate the way Louis looks at him, as if he’s being completely daft. If he is, it isn’t intentional.

Louis doesn’t answer, saved by the kettle, and Liam pulls away to pour milk into their bowls and hand it to Louis when he’s done. They eat in relative silence, Louis’ knee bouncing next to his the whole time, proving he’s still keyed up about something.

 

The writing session goes well enough, though Liam quickly realizes Louis is keeping private the song he’d shown him last night. They still make progress on three others, almost a full song done by the time someone breaks out a joint and they set aside their pens for a moment.

They discuss their breaks as they pass around the spliff, Louis uncharacteristically quiet. Jamie notices first, nudging Louis with his feet. “What’s got your tongue, Tommo? Never known you to be so quiet before.”

Louis shrugs and doesn’t answer, though he smiles the way he does when he’s stoned, easily and without a trace of malice. He lolls his head onto John Ryan’s shoulder, and Liam feels a stirring of what might be jealousy low in his stomach. He pushes aside the thought and accepts the joint when it comes his way, taking a long hit- long enough to be considered a bit rude- before passing it off. He holds the smoke in as long as he can, breathing out easily and ignoring the faint tickle in his throat that wants him to cough. Louis’ watching him from where he’s pressed into John’s side, a considering look on his face.

 

“Were you jealous?” Louis asks later that night, as they’re piling into a cab, Alberto taking the front seat.

“When?” Liam asks, though he knows exactly when.

“When you saw me and John?”

Liam shrugs, shifting so he’s farther away from Louis than they normally sit. He had been, but he doesn’t know why or what to say to explain himself. He’s used to the attraction he feels for his bandmates- has always appreciated each individual aesthetic- but he’s always been keyed up about Louis a little differently. He really doesn’t want to make anything awkward for them, so he stays silent.

Louis reaches across the space between them, grabbing Liam’s hand and holding it tightly. “I think I might be bi,” he says, voice so low Liam thinks he must have misunderstood. His cheeks are pink when Liam whips his head to look at him, and that confirms his words enough.

“How long have you thought this?” Liam asks, throat tight.

“I've always been theoretically into lads but I've never wanted to date one. But, to answer your question: pretty much since I started having a terribly inconvenient crush on you.”

Liam’s brain fizzes out at that for a moment, his thoughts coming to an abrupt stop. He looks over Louis then, takes in the flush of his cheeks and the determined set to his jaw, the way his lips are pressed in a narrow line and how his eyes seem to flash with something that looks like fear.

For some reason he can’t explain, Harry’s voice comes back to him from the afternoon they spent in disguises months ago, when he’d mentioned Louis’ secret crush. “How did Harry know?” he asks.

“Pretty sure everyone did,” Louis answers with a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I was pretty obvious about it after Eleanor and me split.”

Liam tries to think back and remember what he’d acted like, if it had differed at all, but he can’t think of anything off the top of his head.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Louis adds, voice sounding rushed. “It doesn’t have to change anything, you’re still my best mate.”

That isn’t what Liam wants, though. He isn’t sure, doesn’t want to mess with anything that could hurt the band, but he knows that he doesn’t want _nothing_ to change. He squeezes Louis’ hand and tugs, pulling him across the seat and getting his arm around him.

“Why don’t we get some sleep and then we’ll talk about it in the morning?” he asks, knowing they’re a bit too stoned still to have this conversation tonight.

“I hate talking,” Louis pouts, warm against his side.

Liam laughs. “I know you do,” he soothes him, letting his fingers trail along the edge of Louis’ shirt sleeve. “But I’ll do you a fry up, how’s that sound?”

“Do you have that Waitrose jam I like?”

“The strawberry?” he asks. Louis nods. “Yeah,” Liam says. “I think I’ve got that in. If not, I’ve got the lime marmalade you claim to hate but always eat whenever you’re over.”

Louis shushes him, pressing a finger to his lips and Liam laughs. They pull up to his house shortly after, Louis following him out of the taxi and waving Alberto off when he goes to follow. “Paddy’s here,” he says quietly. “We’ll be alright.”

They head inside quickly, Louis following Liam once again into his bedroom. It should maybe be weird, knowing now what Louis’ been hiding from him, but it isn’t at all. They curl up together same as always, and Louis kisses his cheek like before. Liam’s the one who turns his head just a bit at the last second, their lips touching briefly before they pull away.

“Right,” Louis says after a stunned second of silence. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Liam nods and lets Louis shift until he’s the little spoon, Liam curling against his back.

In the morning, when they’re sober, he’ll sit Louis down and they’ll put all their feelings out on the table and work out whether or not they should try a relationship. Liam’s fairly certain there’s no way the answer won’t be a ‘yes’ because he goes along with all of Louis’ ideas and this is shaping up to be his best adventure with Louis yet.

For tonight, though, he ducks his face so his forehead is pressing to the bumps of Louis’ spine at the top of his back,  nose pressing a few vertebrae lower and exhaling strong against his skin so that Louis shivers a bit and laughs, pushing his head back and settling into the pillows, drifting off to sleep. Liam follows suit soon after, a smile on his lips and a warmth in his gut.

He’s got a feeling tomorrow is going to be a good day.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! [Come say hi!](http://sa-voix.tumblr.com)


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